Chapter 53
THE GOLDEN RETRIEVER DROPS THE BALL
It was so much better to go back to work.
Was she still a little under the weather, physically and emotionally?
Yes, she was. Did she feel too busy almost every day?
Definitely. But did she enjoy her snatched moments of leisure, like those twenty minutes of reading in bed before your eyes drifted shut of their own accord?
Oh, how much more than she’d enjoyed the endless days of recovery.
Sitting around and mentally spinning your wheels had to be about the most depressing activity in the world.
Being tired after work, though, and coming home to a house where six children continued—more or less—to do their chores, so you weren’t on that treadmill for hours every day?
That was pretty bloody nice. So nice, in fact, that she told Maureen, at the end of Week One of the new term, “I can do the dinners this next week, if you and Granddad would like a wee holiday. Well, a partial holiday, as you’ll still be walking the kids to and from school. ”
Maureen looked at her measuringly, then said, “If you’d rather.” Which forced Skylar to ask herself whether she thought she should make those dinners, or whether she actually wanted to make them. A question she hadn’t often contemplated, because normally, she just did what she had to do.
“You know,” she said, “I believe I would rather. The kids and I enjoyed Cooking School, and Scarlett and Finlay have mentioned taking turns being my sous chef. Seems I can’t get enough of teaching, eh.” There you were. Lightening it up. Easy-breezy. Face it, Maureen made her nervous.
“Ah,” Maureen said. “So this would be for next week, then, while Zane’s busy with the Bledisloe Cup. And when he has that week off after he comes home.”
“Yes,” Skylar said. “That’s what he and I discussed.
After that, the kids and I will move back home, but I’ll do the weekends again while he’s off to Europe for the Nations Championship.
That’s what we talked about, anyway. If that sounds good to you, of course.
” She’d never been able to tell how Maureen felt about her.
The woman wore her dignity like a feather cloak.
It was impressive. It was also intimidating.
“Why wouldn’t that sound good to me?” Maureen asked.
“Oh. I suppose—if you wanted the time with your whanau. With your mokopuna. If you wanted dominion over your kitchen. That last one was a joke,” she hurried to add.
“I have my own kitchen,” Maureen said. “Or Geoffrey and I do. As long as I can cook here for all of them when the chance presents, I’m happy enough to leave it to you.”
“And you’d no doubt rather the kids and I not be here at those times,” Skylar said. Yes, it was daring, but didn’t she need to say it? “In December, for example, when the rugby’s done.”
“Cup of tea, I think,” Maureen said, and went to make it. “Let’s sit a minute.”
By the time they were seated at the breakfast bar with their tea in front of them, Skylar was well and truly nervous.
This had “clearing the air” written all over it.
She was trying to be a more direct person, but she was a getter-alonger.
A pleaser. It was never going to feel good to wait for somebody more direct to tell you exactly how they felt, and to figure out how to respond.
“It looks to me,” Maureen began, “like you feel you’re here to stay. But I’m not sure of that, of course.”
“Uh …” Skylar said. “If you mean with Zane, then yes. Not here here, at the house, but in this, uh, relationship? Yes. That’s the … the idea.” She wanted to say, How do I know whether I’m here to stay? I don’t have a crystal ball! But it would have sounded so abrasive.
“Then I’d say you should join the whanau for those dinners,” Maureen said. “As I’m pretty sure Zane will say so, too.”
“And you don’t mind.” She was just going to ask it. Why not? She wasn’t a fragile blossom who’d break into tiny pieces if everybody didn’t love her, right?
“Zane seems happy,” Maureen said. “The kids, too. And don’t I want my mokopuna to be happy? What about you, then? Are you happy?”
“Who, me?” Skylar was confused.
“Yes, you. How happy are you, going along like this? How happy are you if this is how it stays? He’s a cautious man.
He’s not likely to move in a hurry. Are you willing to wait?
Or are you going to break his heart? That’s what would worry me, if I let myself worry.
And possibly that Geoffrey and I will have to move back in for good, just when we’re having a bit of leisure and enjoying ourselves.
But there’s no sense in worrying about things that may never happen, so I reckon we’ll just bang on as we are and trust that the future will sort itself, one way or the other. It generally does.”
“So you’re not laying any bets.” As a joke, it was pretty feeble, but what was she meant to say?
“No,” Maureen said. “But then, I’m not a betting woman.”
Which wasn’t exactly satisfactory, was it? It was also something she couldn’t possibly discuss with Zane, as it was sure to come across as, ‘Your grandmother may hate me.’ Anyway, you couldn’t rush life, you couldn’t rush men, and you definitely couldn’t rush relationships.
Pity real life wasn’t more like books.
At lunch the next Monday, Jess said, “You’re looking less peaky, anyway.
I’ve never seen anyone come back from holiday—let alone an ultra-glam holiday in Fiji—looking so white and tired.
Shagging all day and night, were you? But now he’s off with the team, so I guess you’re getting your rest again.
Until tomorrow, of course. If you’re dragging again on Wednesday, I’ll know why. ”
Obviously, Skylar hadn’t told Jess about the pregnancy.
It was one of those things, maybe, that was harder to share with somebody who wasn’t a mum herself.
Or maybe it was just that she’d been afraid she’d cry.
She and Zane had told George and Georgia that it was “a private thing,” and not to share, and so far, they seemed to have managed.
Possibly because it wasn’t nearly as interesting as the new guinea pig in their classroom.
“You’re right,” she answered Jess, “it was a bit tiring. Not because of all the sex, though that was lovely. You can’t actually be shagging left, right, and center with six kids in the house. How was your own weekend?”
“Dull,” Jess said. “Which is why I rang you up about that drink. Only to find that you had all Zane’s kids and your own. Again. Bang maid much?”
“I’m not a bang maid!” Again, a little loudly, and yes, Stacey looked around and smirked a bit, but really?
“I’m there because I enjoy it,” she said more quietly.
“And I invited you over for a glass of wine, remember? You’re the one who didn’t want to come.
What is it with everybody? I just had the most uncomfortable conversation with Maureen, too.
Doesn’t anybody believe in Zane? Why not?
The man is amazing. He’s— Well, he’s amazing, that’s all. ”
“What conversation with Maureen?” Jess asked. “His grandmother? The whanau’s having second thoughts, too? Tell.”
“She probably thinks I can’t hang onto him,” Skylar said. “And really? It was hard enough for me to have confidence in the first place, and now you’re making me less confident? OK, here’s what she said. You decipher it.”
She was probably hoping for Jess to say, “No, she clearly loves you and is hoping you’ll stick.
” Instead, her friend said, at the end of her recital, “Huh. So you want to take on even more work over there, and shove his grandmother out? Sky—realize how that looks. Time to stand up for yourself, not bend over backward again to please a man. This is playing house, pure and simple. Are you trying to make the same mistakes over again?”
“I’m not taking on more work,” Skylar said, possibly heatedly.
“It’s less work, because the kids are doing so much.
They have it all written up, with assignments and names and times.
And do you know why? Because Zane worked it out with them, that’s why.
He has his own chores on there, too, even as little as he’s around!
In fact, he reminded me last night that he’ll be home tomorrow to do them.
That’s what he said when I talked to him the morning after they won the Bledisloe Cup, and if that doesn’t prove he’s thinking of me and …
and looking out for me, then I don’t know what does.
” She didn’t get heated. She was a cheerful person!
But here she was, getting heated anyway.
“Here.” She pulled out her phone and found the photo.
“This is his list. He got the kids on side so easily, too. Talked to Finlay and Scarlett first, and made them co-captains in the effort. He must be a rugby skipper, eh.”
Jess looked at the photo. Then she looked at it again. “Everything’s on here, though,” she said slowly. She put the phone down and gazed at Skylar. Searchingly, you’d call that. “Wait. You aren’t peaky. You’re ill. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I’m not,” Skylar said. “Honestly, you’re as bad as Finlay. I don’t have cancer, and I don’t have any other dread disease, either. I was … well, a bit under the weather. For a while. I’m much better now, but Zane’s still—”
Jess had a finger out and was pointing it. “He gave you an STI. I knew it.”
“He did not give me an STI!” This time, she kept her voice down.
“How do you know? Have you been tested? You think you’ve got flu, when actually—”
“I was pregnant, all right?” And there she went, blurting it out.
Well, she hadn’t been made for secrets. She’d never be Maureen, with her reserve and her dignity.
She was a Golden Retriever of a woman, practically wagging her tail with her tongue out in her eagerness for connection, but at least she knew it.
That’s why she taught Year One! “I had an ectopic pregnancy, from that first time when we—from after the earthquake. We found out in Fiji when I got ill. I went to hospital by ambulance, had emergency surgery, and spent the last day of our holiday there, and Zane spent it with me. And he was wonderful. He’s been wonderful.
He’s been so— And I—” She stopped, because, yes, she’d choked up.
“And you didn’t tell me?” Jess asked. “Why not? When you’d been that ill? I would’ve come, once you were home again. But you didn’t even tell me. Your best friend!”
“I’m sorry,” Skylar said. “It’s felt too … too personal. Hard to talk about. Please don’t share. I mean with anybody.”
“Of course,” Jess said a little stiffly. “You should know I won’t. I reckon you’re happy, though, in one way. You both must be. That you didn’t have to deal with it.”
“That’s not how it works.” She didn’t want to talk about this. Why on earth had she let it slip out? Well, Golden Retrievers couldn’t always control themselves, either. “You’re always going to be sad. Zane was, too.”
“I wouldn’t be,” Jess said. “I had to use the morning-after pill once. Easiest decision of my life. That would’ve been an option, you realize.
You’re such a babe in the woods, Sky. Are you sure he didn’t want to get you pregnant?
Surely he must’ve known about that pill, even if you don’t.
This can’t have been his first rodeo. What kind of game is he playing here?
Trying to get you dependent on him? Remember the love bombing idea? I think—”
“I need to get back.” Skylar gathered up the detritus of her lunch and didn’t look at Jess.
“Bollocks,” Jess said. “If I’ve said the wrong thing, if you disagree, tell me. I worry about you, but that’s because I love you. Stop being perfect and thinking you can’t tell the truth or I won’t love you anymore.”
Skylar stopped gathering up rubbish and put her two hands on the table.
“All right, I will. I was sad. Zane was sad. When you say that we ought to have been happy, you— You don’t get it, that’s all.
We each have three kids, and we love them.
We remember the pregnancies and the births.
It’s different, that’s all I can tell you.
It’s different, and it’s hard. And yes, before you ask, I love him.
Obviously I love him, or I wouldn’t be there.
He says he loves me, too. What is that going to look like?
I don’t know. We’re making it up as we go.
That’s all we can do. That’s all anybody can do.
You don’t get guarantees. That’s not how love works. ”
“You’re going to get hurt,” Jess said. “I said it before, and I’ll say it again.
If you keep on like this, you’re going to be hurt.
Your kids are helping at home? Brilliant.
Move back home and let them help you do all those things for four people instead of seven.
I’m going to tell you this, because you don’t seem to have learned it.
You don’t move in with a man before the relationship is firm.
I mean really firm, as in knowing where it’s going.
As in saying the words. ‘Marriage.’ There’s a word.
Or if that’s too old-fashioned for you, ‘Engagement.’ ‘Commitment.’ ‘Life partner.’ Any of those works.
That’s not just for the kids’ sake, it’s for yours, too.
You’re the marrying kind, and you’re too soft for this.
You’re not tough enough, full stop. You’re going to get hurt. ”
“Fine,” Skylar said. “If that happens, you can say, ‘I told you so.’ But I’m not giving up on Zane or his kids.
You’ve read Jane Austen as many times as I have.
I’m Anne Eliot in this one, and I’m going to stay Anne Eliot.
I may be sadder and wiser—I am sadder and wiser—but I’m not going to give up on Captain Wentworth this time.
Not when I see the man he is. If my heart gets broken, it won’t be because he isn’t a good enough man after all.
It’ll be life, and life sometimes sucks like that.
I know that, but I’m still not going to be persuaded. ”
“This isn’t Persuasion,” Jess said. “This is what I mean! Life isn’t a romance novel! Jane Austen was single. Forever. Famously.”
“I don’t care,” Skylar said. “I’m going to believe in him anyway.”
She might be a Golden Retriever, but that didn’t mean she had to keep chasing that ball just because somebody threw it. So she’d been wrong before. Twice before. Did that mean she could never be right?